


You Have My Attention

by Oneshotshipper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ana ships Mercyrat, Blatant Flirting, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushing big time, Cute, Dancing, Dapper!Rat, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gala Event, Humor, Jamison no thats not how u do that, Junkrat goes shopping, Junkrat is cute, Love, Mercy is cute, Post-Recall, Questionable Wooing Tactics, Roadhog is a better wingman than Junkrat thinks, Winston is nice, does a better job than expected, fluff with plot, it's coming i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneshotshipper/pseuds/Oneshotshipper
Summary: Junkrat's been crushing on Mercy since he first met her. He likes her a lot, he likes when they work together, and he likes when she gives him attention. He schemes to get it, but doesn't realize he's already had it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Overwatch fic, and I'm super excited. Shoutout to the wonderful author Ceia, whose Mercyrat stories made me ship these two hardcore. I hope you guys enjoy!

“She’s really something, isn’t she mate?” His slightly dreamy voice asked. Jamison Fawkes was of course referring to the drop-dead-gorgeous doctor.Lord, how he hated docs usually, but she was changing his mind ever since he joined up with Overwatch a few months back. When he was supposed to have a meeting with a Doctor Ziegler, he expected some bloke in a suit and labcoat, poking and prodding to the point where Junkrat would have preferred to blow his fingers off rather than have him touch him for one more second. But Angela, Mercy, _Angel…_ She was patient and kind with him, speaking with him in a way like no other docs had done before. Most quacks were scared off by his radiation (it kinda effected the brain in a way that not a lot of people wanted to deal with), his general disorder and uncleanliness and minor predilection to want to cause trouble. He couldn’t help it, alright? Didn’t help that he used to be a feared, big, bad international criminal! Until Winston granted him and his best mate that sweet pardon.

She had simply smiled at him, all pretty and clean (complete with lack of blood and grime and soot!) and _bright._ Her hair and eyes were _bright, bright, bright_. Like explosions! Or, perhaps if he was more inclined to romance, like the sun. But she was sharp too, that one. Knew her stuff like a real genius, and from the few missions he’d been on so far, they worked well together. Him blowing stuff up and Mercy being the combat angel she was, flying around in a way that made him feel a bit overly giggly and breathless. That staff of hers was a real piece of work after all, and if he didn’t know at least a little of the science behind it, he’d say the Sheila was magical through and through. Though, she may very well be. Siren. Angel, demon. Affecting the feeble hearts of men! Or… maybe just him? Either way, from the few instances they had contact, it was obvious to everyone around him (mainly Roadhog) that he was simply smitten.

The big guy himself sat beside him at their base’s cafeteria for their lunch and glanced in the direction that Jamison had previously been staring without shame. Still was. And there she was, not in her literal angel suit today, but dressed down in a blouse and skirt. Mercy was grabbing some coffee with the Ana lady, and he could not overhear their conversation, but she looked happy. Roadhog grunted, tiny spoon dwarfed by his large hand. “…You’re too obvious.” And only then, did he finally tear his gaze from her, heat rising on his face.

He scowled. “Am not!” But even so, he was tempered by the knowledge that he might have been caught! He didn’t want to add to perceptions that he was a creepy, no-good, criminal! Well, he didn’t really care about what anyone thought of him, but only what _she_ would think. And the last thing he wanted for Mercy to feel uncomfortable by his staring. Even though it was so damn _hard_ to take his eyes off her. An idea suddenly rose in his head. “If I’m grabbing some coffee meself, I’ll have a reason to look at her! Maybe uh. Speak to her too.” It was brilliant and socially acceptable to boot!

Roadhog let out a deep chuckle, “It’s not gonna happen, Rat. Sorry.”

“Ya don’t sound sorry at all, ya big lug! And it could happen! Maybe. Someday! You just watch!” Junkrat snapped back at him, finding the bravery to stand and slowly hobble towards the coffee at the front of the cafeteria, metal cybernetic leg sounding too loud against the white tiles as the approached the women. _What do I bloody say? Oi, Mercy! Nice day today, eh?!_ No, that was stupid and unnecessary. An intelligent woman like her probably couldn’t care less about silly small talk that had no real substance.

But as he approached, feeling oddly nervous, thinking over what he should say, Mercy was the one to speak to him first. Ana and Mercy stopped speaking once he approached, and he felt so damn _jittery_ , fingers tapping repeatedly in anxiety.

“Oh!” The angel exclaimed. “Hello Junkrat,” she greeted him with a warm, friendly smile, and it felt like his stomach had been blown up. By butterflies. And all of those little critters wielded frag launchers. That was how it felt alright! “How are you doing? I’ve not seen you in a while.”

 “G’day!” He spoke a little too loudly, voice a bit higher in pitch than he would have liked. “Didn’t see ya there, doc!” He nodded, remembering to at least have a bit of manners so he wouldn’t be a complete outcast here. Especially not in front of Angela. “And hello to you, Ms. Amari.” If he couldn’t charm Mercy with his devastatingly good looks and charm, and amazing capability in battle, he would do it by being an utter gentleman. Ana uttered him a hello, not as interested in him as Mercy. That was fine by him, he knew too well that many of his supposed colleagues were wary of his past. Understandable! “I’m doing great!” Junkrat exclaimed, “Peachy! What about you?” He started filling his coffee. _Focus, Fawkes!_

“I have been doing well,” Mercy replied. “A bit of paperwork here and there, but nothing too strenuous.” She almost sent him a teasing smile. “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“Oh yeah, course!” He said, unable to stop himself from looking back up at her face. “I’m the epitome of good behavior now, Miss Mercy!”

“Good to hear it.” And she sounded so sincere, and smiled at him so sweetly with absolutely no fear or disgust. And she wasn’t screaming, so that was a positive thing! So lovely, and he may or may have not blanked out for a moment, on the verge of swooning. Mercy frowned suddenly, looking between Junkrat and the coffee dispenser. There was a moment of silence. “Um. Junkrat?” She looked concerned. “You’re currently burning your hand.”

As if he was suddenly pulled back into reality, Jamison in an instance felt the painful burning sensation on his good, nonmetallic hand. Coffee was overflowing out of his cup, splattering on it. He pulled his hand away immediately, stepping backwards hurriedly. “Ouch! Dammit!” He cursed, cup falling on the floor and making a right mess. He gripped his reddening hand, gritting his teeth in embarrassment and pain.

“Goodness!” Mercy exclaimed, and Ana stared at him critically, like she knew exactly why he had just made a fool out of himself. Weird, batty, old lady, he supposed. That one eye could see anything! He was sure of it! “Here, let me see,” she said, and she gently reached to take his hand in her own, soft ones. He gave it to her with no fight, when any other doctor or person, for that matter, would have gotten maybe a shove, a fist, or if he was jittery enough, a bite. “Not too severe,” she noted with what sounded like a bit of relief, examining his burn. And he felt happy, honestly. She cared about his existence! It was a start! “I can run and grab you some ice, if you would like,” she offered him earnestly.

“Nah, nah, doc, I got this!” He said, “Besides, I know you’re busy with all that boring paperwork. I'll just run it under some water or something.” He gently pulled his hand back, unwilling to startle her or make it seem like he was ungrateful for her attentions.

 “…Okay, if you are certain,” she relented.

“Angela,” Ana finally said. “We should head back soon. They need us.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Angela said, and she almost sounded… disappointed? Though it could be his own hallucination or hopefulness or a mix of both. She turned back to Junkrat with an apologetic smile. “My apologies, Junkrat, but I must return.” She paused. “We really should catch up at some point.” _Yes, yes, bloody hell yes._  

“Sure!” He barely managed to say. “See ya later, Miss Mercy!” He just had to keep his cool for a little while longer.

 “Please, no need to be so formal. Most of my friends simply call me Angela. You may if you like.” She told him, and his heart was soaring so high at being referred to as her _friend_ , that he simply did not reply, standing there dumbly, with a big grin fighting its way onto his face, and nodding his head even if he didn’t quite hear what she said. The two women started to walk away, but before she did, Angela turned back to him one last time. “Oh! And if your hand still hurts, feel free to stop by my office, ja?” She gave him one last smile, “I’m sure I would be able to squeeze you in.” And then they were gone.

He was basically on cloud nine as he returned to Roadhog, humming a happy tune even as his hand felt like it had been scorched. He felt like a victorious man, his gait a strut as he sat back down at his seat. “Told you I could do it!” He boasted to Roadhog, who was staring unimpressed at both him and his burned hand.

He shook his head, and grumbled, “Idiot.”

“Whaatttttt?” He drawled out. “I may have burned me hand, but I think it went pretty well!” He said. “I talked to her. Outside of a check-up!” He held his hand, honestly considering going to Mercy’s office later just to spend time with her. He wanted to talk to her, to know her better, and maybe… she’d get to know him better in return. “And,” he added, “I know I made a bloody fool out of myself, but she still went and smiled at me!” And he knew he was loud and excited, unable to control his volume. “Offered and _wanted_ to see me when we weren’t under fire!” It was one of the best things he could have hoped for.

“Friendly. Nice.” Roadhog muttered simply, “Being so because she felt bad for you.” Roadhog was a man of few words, Junkrat knew, but he always took his judgment into account, even though he himself was an unparalleled schemer and genius! “Don’t think too much of it, Jamison.” The big man grumbled in warning. “She’s… different than us.” If this was his way of saying she was out of his league, he was doing a damn poor job of it.

“She told me to call her Angela! That’s something, mate! I’m tellin’ you, that maybe… I dunno. And even if-” He suddenly stopped, eyes going wide and nearly buggy, when he was hit with inspiration. “Roadie, I knew there was a reason I hired you!” He exclaimed loudly with a delighted crazy laugh, causing several random people that were also dining in the cafeteria to glance towards the pair worriedly. “She might of felt bad for me, but she helped me anyways!”

“Doctor,” Roadhog pointed out gruffly.

“That’s not all!” He said. “I know what I gotta do now.” He muttered in a very serious fashion suddenly. “I just gotta keep getting her attention! Who knew to win over somebody, all ya had to do was talk to ‘em and injure yourself?!” He had been so nervous to initially talk with Angela, but now he knew his angel was receptive to him and seemed to not resent his presence at all, he felt like he could be a bit bolder. He was no coward after all! Even when true insecurity tended to pierce him at the wrong time, especially when his mind flickered back to Roadhog’s words. He knew he really wasn’t the most attractive (or sane) of guys, Angela could do loads better than him, but dammit, he would hate himself forever if he didn’t at least try for it. She was too perfect to not.

"…This is a bad idea.” Roadhog commented, already catching onto the scheme turning in Junkrat’s head, especially when a shark-like smirk developed on Jamison’s face.

“Operation: Woo the Angel is a go!” He exclaimed and Roadhog simply sighed tiredly.

* * *

 

 At some point, Overwatch had gone legal, with the UN noting the rising threat of Talon and rescinded the Petras act. The monkey had been ecstatic for weeks, and many of the other higher ups, leaving Junkrat to carry out his master plan and avoid the suits and bigwigs catching onto the fact that over the last two months, he had gotten injured on the job four times. The first three had involved slight ‘mishaps’ with his grenade launcher literally exploding in his face. Each one of those times, he was cut up, and covered in its powder from the fuel, and a bit burned, but it was worth it.

He spent time with Mercy each time, attempted to not start bursting out with laughter and giddiness whenever he saw her flying towards him on the field, in her beautiful, elegant suit, and bright wings spread and she looked like such a damn _goddess_ that it nearly hurt to look at her. But he’d gladly be in pain for it. She’d swoop down, staff in hang, a hand on his shoulder, and look at him with such care and worry that it hurt his chest.

“Again, Jamison?” She questioned worriedly when it happened the third time. He’d insisted that after the second that she call him by his name, since she allowed him to call her Angela. His name sounded wonderful with her accented voice, soft and angelic and lovely that it made him unable to stifle his loud giggle.

“Sorry, Angela,” he had piped up, Roadhog by his side, watching him disapprovingly. He smiled sheepishly, as she made a few adjustments on that staff of hers, before catching him with her cooling, gold, healing beam. Nanotech. He didn’t get it, but he got other things, like complex mechanical engineering. It was how he made his leg and arm after all. For example, it was how he had been able to tinker expertly with his weapon so it would blow up in his face, and be able to tinker with it again and again. “Guess ‘m having a stroke of bad luck!”

Despite it, she laughed with him. “I would say so! Do be more careful!” And even her chiding was the attention that he was craving from her. She had checked over him, perhaps a little longer than she had to, hand lingering in at least a certainly friendly gesture on his arm. “Wouldn’t want to lose one of our most dynamic agents.”

“Did ya hear that? She called me dynamic!” He had recounted to Roadhog later.

“I was there.”

The fourth time had actually been a true accident, and he had ended up spending a few nights in the infirmary afterwards, which hadn’t been so bad with Angela checking in with him and fretting over him. He hadn’t tried to blow up his launcher again, as he feared that the smart woman would catch onto the fact that it wasn’t an accident. She was kind and patient when he had been attacked by a Talon assassin, who had managed a shot at his metal leg, crippling him in the field. His leg had malfunctioned, but Mercy had promised he would not have to get strange, new prosthetics. Once he was fully healed, she had told him that he would be able to get aid if he desired, to fix his own leg.

They had talked as well, when Angela had kept him company when he was bedridden by her order. She spoke to him like they were friends, and Junkrat had never been happier. She had chosen to sit with him, to laugh and joke and he admittedly was basking in her attention. He worked on the getting to know her part, and have her know him. It was now, that he definitely decided he was completely head-over-heels for the doctor. It had been going rather smoothly, he confidently noted for himself, despite the fact that he had been injured. It was worth it to see her more often. He learned that she had been an orphan of the Omnic War as they talked more often, socialized during free times, and even occasionally emailed as colleagues. In turn, she learned that he had fought his whole life for survival in irradiated Australia, only to be kicked out of the one place he had called home when Junkertown’s Queen had kicked him out.

“And for absolutely no reason!” He had told her dramatically, huffing.

“I’m so sorry,” she had replied with sympathy. “I cannot even imagine how that must feel.”

He only shrugged, face a bit flushed and the nervousness creeping back up like the time he had spoken to her over coffee the few months back. “It’s alright.” He paused, looking over at her lovely face, noting that he had to have seemed dirty and sloppy to her by comparison. But he spoke his words anyway, quite seriously. “I got a new home anyway. Lots better people too.”

She smiled, “I’m glad.”

Now, the whole team had to have known that somehow, Angela Ziegler had become fast friends with Jamison Fawkes. And if that was all she wanted to be, that was more than anything he had ever hoped for with her. Junkrat was thinking about her again, another mealtime. Breakfast this time. So lovely, but she was more than that, he thought. She was such a powerful presence, kindness, gentleness, but also strength and determination. God, he had it bad now, and there was nothing he could do to not feel this way. He and Roadhog were sitting alone at their table again, because hell, they didn’t bite or anything, but no one really wanted to sit with them anyway.

He yawned tiredly, munching on a doughnut. Too bloody early, if you were to ask him. Many of them lived in the provided quarters, and they chose to use them. After all, money saved was money earned! And as a newly responsible citizen, Junkrat had to use his money wisely now! Why spend on an expensive apartment in the city, when he could use it on grenades and bombs. Making things go boom was his favorite thing in the world. … Closely now tying with someone else.

“Good morning, boys,” her voice suddenly broke through, and he was so caught off guard he started choking on his doughnut. Roadhog slammed his back before Mercy could react, and he hacked up a few crumbs. “Jamison,” she sighed, teasing him. “Honestly, every time I see you now, something is wrong with you!” And he glanced up, groaning inwardly groaning at how bloody, unfairly, adorable she looked for someone at seven in the morning. It was the least put-together he’d seen her – hair in a messy bun, lounge pants, bathrobe and simple shirt. But she still somehow looked incredible as always.

“Mornin’ Angel.” He said, staring at her once more. Roadhog subtly nudged him under the table with his large elbow, and he quickly corrected himself in panic. “ANGELA,” he said in his loud voice. “Mornin’ to ya!”

She merely laughed at him, like she knew what was going on, and for a brief second of fear, Junkrat believed she did. Before she innocently turned to Roadhog, “And how are you today, Mako?”

He grunted a positive sound, giving her a friendly thumbs up. Roadie wasn’t much a morning person anyway.

“Anyway,” Angela said, smiling at them both. “Would you mind terribly if I sat here with you? I cannot stay for long, but I would like to relax for just a little bit.”

As if he’d say no! “Please! Join us!” And if some of the people also eating breakfast were watching Angie take a seat and willing sit with Junkrat and Roadhog like they were all friends, he couldn’t care less. Let them talk, because he didn’t give a damn. Junkrat was so damn happy he couldn’t stop smiling, drumming his fingers against the table in fidgety excitement.

“Danke!” She replied brightly, taking him up on the offer as she sat across from the two of them. She was thanking him for him agreeing for her to sit her? She really didn’t know what he was all about then. Little did she know, he was already planning on how to possibly extend this moment, or this day really. Maybe if he started acting really sick, Mercy would have to stay with them! No more blowing up his weapon, but he could still catch her attention in other ways. All ways that weren’t too serious or severe, but still called for medical attention. 100 percent worth it, he decided.

“I… actually came here to ask you both something,” she spoke up after a minute of eating her own meal, oatmeal sitting untouched for a long moment. “If you don’t mind?”

"Go ahead! Ask away!” He exclaimed.

She nodded, and seemed almost… shy? “Well. I’m sure you both heard about the Overwatch charity gala coming up in a few weeks, yes?” Roadhog paused, looking between the two of them.

“Oh yeah, that big fancy shindig? Yeah, so all the rich people can donate? Not my thing, with all the suits there.” He noted with a bit of a cackle.

He regretted it the instant that Angela seemed to deflate visibly. Roadhog groaned. “Oh.” She looked back down at her food, nearly awkwardly. “…So you have no interest in going?”

Junkrat could have smacked himself in the face. He leaned back in his chair, studying her face. “I uh. I wasn’t invited, Angie. We’re the new guys, remember?!”

She further blushed. “I was. And we. We are allowed to bring guests. I was hoping… that you would perhaps like to come along? With Mako of course,” she acknowledged, nodding her head. And everything around Junkrat suddenly hit him all at once. _She’s asking for a date. Say yes, you damn bloody fool!_

“I can’t go. Sorry.” Roadhog spoke deeply, speaking before Junkrat could snap out of his stupor. He elbowed him again, harder this time.

“I can!” He suddenly screeched, high-pitched, and he nearly winced at his own voice. “I mean… I’d love to go, sounds like my kinda thing after all! Fine cause, that is!”

She brightened again, “Wonderful!” She seemed genuinely happy and it made Junkrat feel happy as well. _Just as friends_ , his mind argued with itself, but he wasn’t really listening to itself. She finished her meal rather quickly, all smiles and beauty and Junkrat wanted to ask her all romance-like right there. “I have to run! Talk later!” She said, and was she really so happy just because he agreed to go? “Just a heads up,” she said before leaving. “It is a formal event, and I know you don’t particularly like suits… but….” She asked, “Do you have one? Sorry to have to make you get one.”

“Course I do, Angela!” He exclaimed, even while knowing it was very much a lie. “I can clean up well, ya know!” He teased her, “And I’m a true gentleman at heart!” And it was wonderful to see her laugh, even better knowing that he had made her laugh. He watched her leave, and the two of them remained silent for a long while at their table.

“You don’t own a suit,” Roadhog stated the obvious.

“It’s why I gotta go shopping, ya dipstick!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the gala final chapter is coming. I couldn't resist the thought of Junkrat and Roadhog going into a high-end store.
> 
> For reference to Junkrat's chosen suit: https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Craig-Skyfall-Tuxedo-Jacket/dp/B00KLJEBYQ
> 
>  
> 
> I spent so much time looking up fancy clothes you guys have no idea omg.

Junkrat’s idea of shopping usually meant he’d go into a store and just take what he wanted and laugh at the frightened storeowner’s face. Shopping, looting, same difference. He admittedly had the best shopping spree of his life when he and Roadie went on their little international trip shorty before joining up with Overwatch. So now, and there was a first time for everything he supposed, he was going shopping the normal, pedestrian way. The legal way!

Soon as work ended and the weekend arrived, he decided to drag Roadhog with him bright and early on a Saturday morning in order to find that special suit that would be passable at the very least among the world of European wealthy elites and donors. The new Overwatch HQ based in London gave him the opportunity to visit some of the finest stores this country had to offer. He hadn’t liked it at first; loud and crowded with pompous Brits and bloody Omnics alike, and the initial transfer had honestly made him consider tearing his hair out. Everything was clean aboveground, and proper, and frankly, too damn cold and lifeless, believe it or not. He hadn’t liked the lack of sun or heat, and it rained so much that was startling.

But he now had a new hope for this place, excitedly browsing the storefront windows like a proper tourist as they walked through the busy streets. Roadhog was and always had been a great deterrent for people to stay far away from and avoid bumping into him. His interest fell however, rather quickly, as each store was not what he was looking for. Kiddie’s store. No. Ladies’ evening wear. Not for him, obviously. Shopping turned out to be a real chore when you had no idea where you were supposed to be going or looking for. Just when he was becoming _dangerously_ bored, and when Junkrat got to this level of boredom, he got rather… impatient, he laid eyes on a sign hanging upon a tall brick building with fancy, big windows displaying the inside. _King’s Row Finest Suits and Men’s Formal Wear._

“Bingo!” He exclaimed suddenly, breaking the silence between him and Roadhog. “This is gonna be it, ‘m sure of it!”

“It looks pretty… expensive,” the bigger man commented. “Don’t you wanna look somewhere else first?”

“Nah! Besides, the quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get back!” Why spend time searching for something else when it was right in front of you?! He had to admit that Roadhog would be right though; it looked rather pricey and fancier than anything he’d ever lived in ever. Feeling oddly out of his element, Junkrat cautiously opened the door, stepped inside. A pleasant ding sounding from the door, as he stepped on what had to be marble flooring. He looked up, a giant, shiny, crystal chandelier catching his attention before any of the clothing did. “Can ya imagine how much that’s worth?” He breathed, mischievous and very bad ideas suddenly coming to his mind. If that was real crystals, that could be a really good find.

“Junkrat…”

He snapped back to reality, “Yeah, yeah, I know!” He said with a breath, exhaling slowly and steadying himself, and listening to that voice of reason in his head. Which may or may have not been Angela’s voice, but he was not about to tell anyone that. He didn’t want to disappoint her if she was to ever find out, and if he was honest with himself… He didn’t want to disappoint himself. He was not a thief anymore. He was better than that now! He got paid for blowing things up and occasionally legally stealing things from Talon! He did not want to return to that life. He shook of the thoughts, got himself ready and slowly approached the front desk. It was really bright in here too. Made him think he was in some kind of five-star hotel rather than a clothes store.

He and Roadhog approached, the guy up front dressed immaculately in what he assumed to be one of the suits here. Huh. It looked nice, but then again, he could just get a tie he found at a thrift store and think himself the fanciest bloke in the world. Junkrat waited, remembering those manners he was trying _very hard_ to work on. The man didn’t look up from the data screen he was at, busying himself typing hurriedly. They stood there in silence for a few seconds.

He crossed his arms, affronted, scowl appearing on his face. He waited for a few more seconds, and he still did not look up. Brits, he thought bitterly. His patience quickly worn out, and he spoke up. “Oi. You in there, mate?”

The man looked up primly, sighing at the sound of his voice as he looked him over, sparing an alarmed glance at Roadhog for a split second, before he stopped his work. “This shop is not a charity,” he spoke. “If you’re looking for the homeless shelter, it is further down the road.”

“What?!” He exclaimed, sputtering in disbelief. And honestly, Junkrat went back to considering his chandelier plan. He deserved it after all. “We’re not homeless, we’re actually looking for a suit that’s all fancy-like.” And he couldn’t help but take a quick glance down at himself. Same cargo shorts as he usually wore. Jacket over his vest because of the chilly weather. And sure, he hadn’t showered yet today, but it was a Saturday. His hair was a bit of a mess as usual, but he didn’t think he looked homeless!

“Really?” The man asked him skeptically, nose wrinkling as he looked him up and down. “I do hope you realize that this store includes some of the most in-fashion selections of this year. Worn by celebrities, politicians, and the like. It will not be cheap.” And he was so very keenly aware of the small grenades he had in his pocket, his hand suddenly twitching, yearning for the man in front of him to disappear.

Roadhog suddenly slammed his large hands down on the counter, startling the once-composed man to nearly jump off his seat. Junkrat smiled cruelly as his friend leaned into the man’s space in intimidation. “You’d better think about you talk to customers. I might just get mad,” he gave a deep, malicious laugh. “And when I’m mad, violent things happen. Real violent.”

“S-sorry sirs!” The man suddenly squeaked in pure fright. “Please! Welcome! Take a look around the shop and see if anything s-strikes your fancy!” He quickly moved to the side, scrambling off his chair so fast, he knocked it over and had to lean over to stand it back up. “We offer a c-complimentary tailoring and measuring with the purchase of a suit! Let us know if we can be of assistance!” And by the time he had fled, hurrying to go to the back of the shop, Junkrat was in stitches with laughter, cackling in vicious merriment.

“He nearly pissed himself!” He exclaimed, patting Roadhog on the shoulder, his laughter dying down after a moment as he composed himself. He took another breath before he said, “Alright. Let’s get to down to business then.”

And he was thrust suddenly into a very confusing world of tans, blacks, whites, and browns. And frankly, the more he looked through all the fancy suits the more frustrated and confused he got. He turned to Roadhog for any bit of advice, but was met with a vacant stare and a shrug. As he looked around, the guy from before had reemerged with his manager, and both of them were looking anxiously over the two of them as they did their shopping. This was difficult to say the least, and nothing really caught his attention. It was obvious he really couldn’t do this alone, and grudgingly turned back to the employees.

“They all look the damn same!” Junkrat complained. He was sure that he and every other damn man at the gala were going to look all alike! Black tuxedo, white undershirt, tie and bowtie. It was maddening to think about, and he knew that this day was going to be painful. “How do you even impress women with this stuff?!” They didn’t respond, seemingly grasping for words. And he gasped, rambling. “Oh no. Was I supposed to figure out the color of her dress or something?! Match a tie? Is that what you’re supposed to do?!” They were still silent, and Junkrat glared in their direction. Living in high society was surprisingly stressful! “Hello! What’s a guy to do to get some help around ‘ere?!”

The manager seemingly snapped out of his silence and stepped forward, “Sorry, sir.” He approached them warily, like he might be expecting a robbery or an armed assault. Wise instinct, Junkrat supposed. “Well… I assume you’re not attending a high school dance, yeah?” Junkrat shook his head. “So there’s no need to match anything.” He clapped his hands together. “Now. What’s the occasion? My apologies for… earlier.” The other employee had again disappeared.

Junkrat reluctantly explained his situation to the manager, as he knew he was more knowledgeable about that fancy shite than he was. He told him about the gala and how it was _very_ important that he be as well dressed as possible, even if it was itchy and coarse in all the wrong places. He would tolerate it because it was for her. She invited him and he was going to make a damn good impression.

He was led through the entire shop with Roadhog in tow the entire way. Again, none of the suits he showed to him was particularly eye-catching. Junkrat knew without a doubt in his mind that Angela would be stunning, and he didn’t want to just look like any other bloke. Hell, he could show up in a Halloween dress-up suit, pay twenty pounds, and it’d look about the same as what he was seeing in here. He was not impressed in the slightest, and did actually consider moving on to search elsewhere.

“Don’t ya have anything cool?” He whined to the manager. “Somethin’ that doesn’t make me wanna attend me own funeral?” It was how it was to him; uninspiring and boring as all Hell. Roadhog suddenly nudged him, and he looked in the direction where his friend was looking. It was different at least, he thought suddenly, gazing at a light blue suit. But it was still too bright and blue was still too much of a common color that the bigwigs would be wearing. If he was going to do this, he was going to go all out, after all. Jamison Fawkes never did anything with less than full effort on his part! “Nah. Maybe if I got no other option,” he said to him. Though it was quite fancy-looking anyway, and it almost was the same shade as Angie’s…

No! No, he could not get all sentimental! After all the guy here knew more than he did, and he had specifically said it wasn’t common to match up clothes. Despite Junkrat _wanting_ to so badly, because everyone there would know that Angie had asked him there as her date. Well him and Roadhog, but she seemed so happy it was just him. They’d see them there, matching and friends, or even more. But no, fancy, mature, reasonable adults did not match their clothes in the way he wanted.

He had blanked out for a moment, the manager saying something he did not hear. But then, as he was led to the back of the shop, he laid eyes on the suit which he immediately decided was going to be the one for him. Roadhog glanced at him for his reaction, and a grand smile appeared on his face, hope rising in his eyes as he let out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s it! That’s the one!” And he was so very excited and proud of himself for the discovery he’d made all on his own. “Ya useless drongo, you’ve actually done it!” He told the manager excitedly, who only looked at him with mild surprise and confusion. “Wrap it up, and we’ll be on our way!” he said proudly. For there, was an amazing looking fitted suit right in front of him on display. Why didn’t they have this one up front?! It was a bright enough red, something that drew his eye to it immediately, and so different from anything else. Red, with black lapels, and on the display, fitted with a white undershirt and a black bowtie. Still formal enough, but not as dreadfully boring as everything else.

He hesitated, “I… You need to get it tailored, sir. Fitted properly, especially because of your… um.” He motioned to his arm, and then down to his metal leg. “Prosthetics.”

Junkrat looked at him quizzically and told him casually, “I was just gonna cut off those parts of the suit so it’d fit.” It’d give him that rugged charm too!  

Thirty minutes later, with some pressure on the manager’s part, Junkrat had gotten himself properly measured, even though he hated every second of it. He had insisted upon it, practically begging him to reconsider cutting off any part of the new clothes. As it turned out, once he suffered through the measuring, it would take time for it to be altered! Insanity! But finally, and while he was trying it on, Roadhog had taken a seat in a nearby chair and nodded, clearly impressed with his choice! Or at least, looking forward to getting out of here soon.

They stepped up to check out, but the accessories caught his eye before he could get there. “Oooh!” He voiced, and he supposed he deserved this as a reward for his suffering. Junkrat had decided that the process of shopping was equal parts pain and fun. Because these things he was about to have so much with. Roadhog groaned in annoyance as he dove in, digging through all of those fancy scarves and hats, picking up one of those elegant bowler hats. Jamison thought it would be a smart investment because there was no way his hair was going to be as elegant as the rest of him. “Look at this, Roadie! Dapper as those old cartoons!” He grunted, trying to hurry him along, but something shiny caught his eye next and he smirked.

When Junkrat went to checkout, he not only had the hat but a gold-encrusted walking cane he didn’t need for the hell of it, laughing joyfully as he set his items up the counter, in good spirits. Maybe he’d even tip them! A little bit anyway, despite how they’d treated him. He felt like a right baron, all right! Baron von Fawkes, richest and coolest bloke around! For good measure, he tossed a pair of gloves up there too, disappointed when he found he could not simply just purchase one glove for his good hand. More the merrier, he supposed!

The nervous employee was the one to ring him up, keeping an eye on Roadhog, who casually leaned on the counter. “W-We can have it all set for you in about two weeks or so. You can come back to pick it up.” Agreeable. “Your total comes to £2200.50 please.” A hefty price to pay indeed, and it made his palms all clammy just thinking about it. It was quite a shock, as he normally only spent so much on explosives, the only thing he truly needed.

He laughed nervously, “You’re sure I can’t put one of the loafers back since I’m not gonna use one of ‘em?”

“Sorry. We uh,” he paused, unsure if Junkrat was joking or not. “We only sell in pairs.”    

“Figures,” he muttered in disappointment. He let out a deep sigh, “Alright, alright, alright.” It would all be worth it. It was one the hardest things in the world, but he’d do it. Junkrat uttered a ‘hold on’ as he searched his pockets for his credit card, something he picked up once he started living in London. Flimsy thing was small and easily misplaced, something he quickly realized when he could not find it in his pockets, directing a panicked glance back up to the employee, whose expression of terror and wariness had faded to one of disbelief and annoyance.

“Uh…. Can I put it on a tab?” He asked hopefully.

“It’s not a bar, sir,” he said, pompous tone back once he lost his fear of Roadhog. “We require full payment on the day of purchase.”

“Um…” Christ, nothing ever worked out the way he wanted. “Do ya accept slightly illegal forms of payment?” He still had stashes of some loot he could not bear to part with, and if he could, he would pay with them.

“No,” he answered deadpan.

“What about jewels and bars of gold, mate?!” He added. “Those will get ya a good price!”

“No,” he simply repeated. “Cash or credit.”

With a cry of frustration and despair, he turned to Roadhog desperately. “That’s what I told you!” He exclaimed, “’S why I always liked TANGIBLE currency!  Not some damn plastic card made out of lies!” Okay, maybe he was panicking just a little bit, but he really was distraught by this news. He feared that if he did not buy his suit right at this very moment, it would not be ready in time for the gala.

With a long-suffering huff, Roadhog surprisingly moved past him and up to the counter. “I’ve got it,” he told the employee, sliding a card across to him. “Credit.” The big man declared, much to Junkrat’s bewilderment. He was so shocked that he didn’t even say anything, looking between the card and back up to Roadhog’s face in pure puzzlement.

As soon as the man went back to print their receipt and slip for his order, Junkrat asked him, “Since when did you get a credit card, Roadie?”

There was a pause, and Roadhog gave a strange laugh behind his mask. “Not my card. Was savin’ it for emergencies.” He looked at him. “It’s one of Overwatch’s cards.”

“The hell, mate?!” He asked in disbelief. “How did you get your hands on one of those?”

“… In a meeting with Winston ‘bout a week ago. Swiped it off him when he wasn’t looking.” Junkrat burst out in another fit of laugher, wicked and proud. Overwatch would be footing the bill for his purchase for their own gala! It was cunning, it was sly!

“Wait, thought we weren’t doing that anymore,” he said.

“Old habits.”

He snickered, thoroughly amused. “Guess you’re right.” And it was with a heavy heart at what he said next, stuffing his receipt in his pockets. “But I guesssssss if he figures out that we took it, and the higher ups are all over him for it,” he opened the door, stepping back outside. “I’ll pay him back. Least I can do.” And he laughed, “But if not, it’s a victory for us, Roadie!”

He was looking back at him as he stepped out the door, not paying attention to where he was going in the slightest nor paying attention. He made it a few steps before he collided harshly with a passerby and nearly knocked them over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see-” And of course when he looked back, he had nearly barreled over none other than Angie. He felt like a fool instantly, reacting quickly to reach out and steady her, who looked both equally as distracted as he was. Angie! It registered it was really her once she laid eyes on him and her face brightened instantly in recognition. “Jamison!” She exclaimed in surprise. “Mako!”

“Hey there!” He replied, moving out the way to allow Roadhog to follow him out of the store fully, and he stood beside him. “Angela no, it’s me own fault. Hope I didn’t bump ya too badly,” he said nearly sheepishly, grinning in embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his head. What a way to impress a lady. Bump into her with no thought and almost knock her on the ground.

“Oh, no, I really wasn’t paying much attention. You saved me anyway,” she noted, and she did seem quite busy, several bags from what he assumed to be her own shopping trip strewn on both of her arms. She was smiling at them, and Junkrat could not stop the hopeful feeling, and it was ridiculous because he definitely did not believe in fate of any kind. But what exactly were the odds that both of them would be shopping at the same time on the same street in fact? In a city as large as London? And then literally bump into one another? Junkrat merely smiled, studying her sweet features. There was silence.

“What are you doing out here?” Roadhog asked her, and he really owed the guy everything, because he would have looked so stupid without him.

“Oh, just doing a little shopping,” she replied, motioning to her bags. “It’s not often I do this and I happened to be free today.” She looked behind them and then asked, “Doing some shopping of your own?” She asked, and then laughed and teased him directly. “Shopping for the suit that you own, Jamison?”

He panicked. “I-! I um…!” She was clearly playing with him, gentle smile and friendly demeanor, but he was so damn afraid that she knew much more than she let on. She probably did, because she was loads smarter than anybody else he knew, but it was still nerve-wracking that she had to know he had lied. “… Yeah. Didn’t wanna make you feel bad about asking us… me… to the gala.” He admitted.

She tilted her head, smile fading a little. “And why would I feel bad?”

“Aw, you know!” he laughed and tried to wave it off. “We both know ‘m not exactly the fanciest guy around. Or erm. The best choice for a thing like this.” Oh, but he would be at that gala, showing up in his red, daring, suit. He wondered what Mercy would think about it.

“Don’t tell me you were embarrassed about not owning a suit,” she told him with a shake of her head as if he was being ridiculous. “It has no bearing on my decision or my regard for you.” He had to be hallucinating, he had to. Or dreaming. Junkrat knew that he could not be awake to hear this. Was this really happening? “Besides,” she added, looking at him with affection. “I cannot think of anyone else I’d rather ask.”

“You’re too sweet, Angie,” he blurted out before he could stop herself, his heart feeling like it was soaring in his chest from her words. It was an oddly personal, intimate moment that he became suddenly aware was not personal. They were on a street here, and Roadhog still right beside him, and she still gazed at him with that soft, sweet, expression. Like he was something to be looked at sweetly rather than with disdain. He coughed suddenly, feeling a bit warm in the face. “Don’t wanna keep ya from your shopping though,” he said.

She shrugged, “I was actually about to take a break anyway.” Junkrat thought it was nice to see her outside of Overwatch, doing things that made her happy. He wanted to make her happy. Mercy then looked hesitant, digging in her bags for a moment. “I got you both something,” she said quickly.

“Huh?” Junkrat and Roadhog asked at the same time. And it threw him for such a loop.

She looked a little embarrassed herself, a bit of a red flush on her high cheekbones, but it might have just been from the wind or being outside. It really wasn’t a warm day after all. “It’s not much really,” Mercy said. “Silly gifts, but they reminded me of you both. And I was going to find you both on Monday, but since you’re here now…” She finally finished searching through her bags and looked back up at them. “You can certainly toss them if you do not like them.” She laughed, “Just a little something I wanted to do since you two joined. Little gifts.”

She handed one of the gifts to Roadhog first, and it looked so small in his palm that it was almost humorous. In his hand, it had to be the smallest, fuzziest, little figurine of a pig he’d ever seen. It was absolutely, ridiculously adorable, and about the size of a keychain in fact, but his heart clenched at seeing it. Even more so when she placed an equally small mouse in his hand, and they had to have been made by the same company as each other. Same level of animal cuteness, same craftsmanship. It was not the only thing that was unfairly and completely adorable around here.

“Believe it or not, they were sold next to each other!” She said, looking between them. The rat and the hog, and it was so perfect that Junkrat wanted to listen to his gut and lift her up and twirl her around like in the old romance movies.

“Thank you,” Roadhog said, carefully rotating the pig to get a better look at it. Junkrat knew that he had to be smiling under his mask. Despite the mask, and the gun, and the weapons and violence, Roadie was just a real big softie underneath it all! True to his name, the big guy loved pigs.

Junkrat gripped the mouse and took a step forward, enveloping her a quick hug. “It’s great, Angie. We love ‘em.” He wanted to laugh, because they were also a funny gag gift. Sense of humor, looks, smarts. He really had it bad. When was the last time anyone had actually given him a gift expecting nothing in return? Her bags dropped to the ground and she returned his embrace, and for a few moments he had to be the happiest guy on this sorry place of a planet. When he pulled back and released her, she was still smiling brightly at him.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I’m so glad.” Her voice was so _soft._ She could have gifted him a blank piece of paper and he would have treasured it. She glanced at Roadhog again, before she picked up her bags once more. “Would you like to come with me? I was just on my way to a café.”

“Yeah, we’d love to!” He said, and Roadhog nodded his agreement. He hung back slightly as the trio began walking together. It was a short affair, as Angie was just looking for a quick cup of tea before she had to set off again, but it was fun. It was a lot of fun that he couldn’t stop smiling even on their way back to base.

He felt more hopeful about her than he ever had before on the metro ride back home, simply staring at the little mouse she had given him. Junkrat began to count the days until the damn gala, assured that it would go better than he thought it would. That he had a real _chance_ at this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god, WE WILL GET THERE NEXT CHAPTER, because I am a sucker that can just not ever get. to. the. point. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> For reference to what Mercy's dress is based off of (and hair tbh): https://www.dorriswedding.com/a-line-court-train-bateau-short-sleeve-tulle-appliques-pleats-keyhole-dress-p330252.html

His eyes fell anxiously on the clock on the wall, even though Junkrat knew he should have been paying more attention to Winston and Morrison, who were giving the team their end-of-week briefing. But tonight was the gala, and every second that ticked by was one more that he had less to get ready and make sure everything was perfect. He was going to be damned sure that everything went according to plan and make himself as presentable as he could. He really tried to listen, he honestly did. But it was nearly four in the afternoon, and they had to be at the event hall situated a few blocks from HQ at seven.

“Lastly,” Soldier’s gruff voice broke through his distracted thoughts. The strike commander had treated Junkrat well enough; praised him for some of his maneuvers during battles and he was A-OK in general. They didn’t make it a habit to socialize outside of Overwatch, but he was alright in his book. “As everyone knows, tonight is Overwatch’s sponsored charity event. This is a pretty big deal for all of us, as it’s really our first public appearance since the recall.”

Junkrat’s attention wandered then, gazing upon the few remaining faces in the meeting room. Angela of course, bright as a bloody star in her white clothes and blonde hair, even when she sat discreetly in the back of the room. Ana and Winston were in the front of the room next to Soldier’s side, and Tracer across from them. Roadie next to him, and the Omnic at the far side of the room, Zenyatta. They were a bit spread thin at the moment, as a lot of their own agents, some of who he’d actually never met were off at peacekeeping missions.

“Yes, we know Jack,” Ana said, and Junkrat really had to admire the nerve of her. Lots of people wouldn’t bother even joking at all to someone as seemingly serious as Soldier 76. “I assure you, all of us will be on our best behavior.” She told him with good humor, and he swore that Ana gave a brief glance in his very direction, but it might have just been a trick of the light. 

He chuckled a little in achowldged, “Yeah, I know we’ll keep ‘em in line. Always do.” But then he was serious again, and turned back to the rest of the room. “But we don’t have to worry because I know you’ll do that yourselves. You’re the very best Overwatch has to offer.” And somehow, Junkrat could just not shake the feeling that it didn’t apply to him and Roadhog. It couldn’t. They hadn’t been here long enough to earn something like that, and if it hadn’t been for Angie inviting them, it would not have even crossed Soldier’s mind. “I will be there, Ana will as well. Reinhardt… Still not available at the moment. And Torbjörn’s on vacation with his grandkids.”

“What about Lúcio?” Angie asked in turn, and Junkrat sneaked a glance over at her. Why couldn’t she be the leader? He’d certainly have no damn trouble listening to her if she told him to do something. Though, he noted with a small smile, he might have actually paid attention less “Will he make it back in time?” He met the DJ briefly, before he had returned back to his hometown in Brazil. Something about some boring, strict, company encroaching on his home town again.

“Yeah!” Tracer added in that cheerful voice of hers. “Wanted him to finally meet Emily and everything! Any news?”

 “Last I checked, his flight had been delayed, but he said he’ll do his best to show up. It definitely would look good to have him there.” The meeting was coming to an end, something he was grateful for, but also incredibly nervous about. Soldier said a few more inspiring words, before they began to trickle out.

“Do your best to represent Overwatch! I can’t wait to see what’s accomplished!” Winston chimed in. And it really was strange to Junkrat; that the one person here that seemingly believed in Overwatch the most was a damn gorilla. Funny to think about! “I would have loved to come along, but… oh, you know. It had a very strict ‘no animals’ policy and I doubt they would make an exception for me,” he chuckled, but Junkrat supposed the monkey got left out of a lot of PR stunts. Bad luck, mate, he thought. But he knew how it was to be excluded. “I’ll be here, watching the livestream along with Zenyatta.” Ah, yeah. The venue also had a strict ‘no Omnics’ policy, something that he really didn’t think was unreasonable, if he was honest. Zenyatta was nice and everything, maybe one of a kind after all, but he could not say the same for the rest of them. Overwatch was being hosted by this place after all, and had to abide by their rules and regulations. Not a big loss.

He approached Mercy, who was gathering up her own things. And the woman was always on the go, working whenever he saw her that it would be something special to see her at the gala tonight, where she didn’t have to work quite so hard. Roadhog was still seated in his chair, as Winston approached him and mentioned what Junkrat overheard to be something about a missing card. His grin was mischievous and apparently, Angela caught onto it before he could make it disappear from his face.

“Jamison,” she said with a playful scolding tone that made his heart leap, “What did you do?”

“Nothin’!” He said, "Honest!” Technically, it was Roadhog who had done it after all, not him! He had been the reasonable one this time! “Can’t a bloke smile?” He asked her as she stood, gathering her bags and leftover paperwork.

“Hmm. I suppose,” Angela replied, but she said it in a way that Junkrat knew she was onto him and attempted to school his features into a more subdued smile. ‘What are you smiling about so much then? Do not tell me I missed one of Mako’s jokes again.” She had quickly somehow wormed her way into their duo, and now it was trio at most mealtimes that she had free. It was a most unlikely grouping of agents, but even the higher ups were beginning to notice. It only made him more ecstatic when he realized that she would be assigned on the same missions as them more often because of their chemistry…. In battle, of course! It definitely was not because they could tell that Junkrat would have done anything for her had she asked him to. He wasn’t that obvious, right? Or was he holding up a massive sign over his head that said ‘I have the biggest bloody crush on Angie, Angel, Ziegler, and I don’t care who knows it?’

“Kinda,” he admitted sheepishly. “But nothing too much.” He was happy because of her, smile growing wider at her playful and cheerful persona that always was there no matter what. Angela’s smile was just one of those rare ones that could light up a room and make everything and everyone just seem _good_. “If ya ever miss a real good one, I’ll retell it to ya so you don’t miss out.”

“That’s kind of you,” she told him, sparing a glance to his larger counterpart before back to him. “You are still coming tonight, ja?” She asked him, and her words contained a bit of guarded hopeful optimism. He’d have to be the biggest idiot on the planet to cancel now.

“Course I am!” He exclaimed, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Angie.” And she didn’t have to reply in order for Junkrat to know she was pleased by his answer.

“Good! I’m very excited!” As was he, because ever since he’d heard of the damn gala, he’d been wondering how Angie would look all dolled up. Course, she never had to try very hard to look downright stunning, but… He knew that he wouldn’t make it through the night without feeling that telltale blush once he saw her in a dress. Some lady could show up wearing a glittery, diamond-encrusted ball gown, and he was sure that Mercy would blow them all out of the water with hardly any effort. And he’d be damned if he let this opportunity slip him by to confess that he… Okay, maybe he would not admit to rigging his weapon for her attention, but to having a crush on her? Yes! Thousand times yes! “Do you want to meet downstairs perhaps, and walk over together? I’ll be dressing up here, since I’ve no time to run to my flat.” He learned that Angie, while she often took advantage of the HQ live-in quarters, had a small place of her own in central London. Pricey, but he understood that the good doc would want some privacy now and then.

“Sounds great to me!” And the romantic part of him (if it existed) was excited by the prospect of being able to play proper gentleman for the evening. He was growing more excited by the moment, twitching ever so lightly, restraining delighted giggles from escaping his mouth. Though Angie hadn’t ever seemed to mind or care that he would burst out in random intervals with his high-pitched laughter, even when Roadhog still acted annoyed. And _acted_ was the key word, because he knew that the big guy truly loved him and had never regretted any day he had spent with him! Except perhaps his failure to break back into Junkertown. Or maybe the time where he had nearly blown them both sky high in an attempt to improve his grenades Or maybe-!

Her voice made him stop his imagined montage before it had even started, and his focus was back on her as she spoke. “Maybe six thirty then?” She glanced at the clock and grimaced, “Oh! We are really running short on time, aren’t we?” It really did sound like they were preparing for a date.

“Guess we should go get ready, huh?” He suggested, even knowing that it would not really take that long for him; perhaps a more intense shower than he usually preferred, a quick polish of the old metal leg, and presto! He would be the most dapper Junker to ever grace this earth! It was brilliant! But women apparently took longer to get ready for stuff like this, and he didn’t see why. She was already perfect as is, anyway. She didn’t have to take hours in attempt to fix herself up. In his view, all she really had to do was throw on a dress and she’d be the best dressed there.

“If we want to be deemed punctual, then… yes, I agree.” She said with a smile. Because right, this wasn’t just a party to attend for some random reason. They were in fact going to be representing Overwatch, something that just hit him for the first time really. Rich people might even… want to speak with them. Socialize, while they were secure in their homes and wealth and were outside of warzones and conflict. Horror! Well, if any of them got on his nerves, he could simply pay their homes a visit! No, no. Again bad idea. They walked out together, Mercy giving Hog an adorable wave as he was pulled away by Winston once more. Poor guy. Gorilla didn’t seem mad though, so that was a start.

They separated on different floors, Angie leaving the elevator first. “See you soon!” And the doors shut, leaving Junkrat alone with his thoughts. Barely containing his excitement, he nearly bowled over one of the building’s janitorial staff, who had the fortune (or misfortune) of seeing such a strange addition to the Overwatch heroic strike team in the highest spirits, nearly dancing as he strolled down the hallway. Junkrat merely waved to the poor guy, and he hesitantly waved back in obvious confusion.

“Beautiful day, huh mate?!” He cried out.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“You know why?!”

“… No?”

“Because I’m about to go on a date! Real one with the best girl and everything!”

“Um… Good for you. Wish you the best of luck?”

“Thanks! But I don’t need luck, I just need meself and my good charm!” And with that, he let out a loud cackle, startling the poor staff member to merely stare and slowly return down the opposite hallway from which he had come, not that Jamison had noticed this. He hummed loudly, tapping his hand against the long walls of the hallway as he returned to his quarters. He wasn’t going to lie, despite his upbringing, he did have certain tastes and preferences that were often above what he had at his disposal. And Overwatch had provided him and Roadie shared quarters once they had joined up, and while simple in design, it was rather large, and allowed for the floor (mainly his side) to be littered with all sorts of gadgets or whatever struck his fancy at that moment.

Over time, it had become more like home than anything. All of their stuff laying around, and furniture to boot! They had chairs and beds and Roadie had an old-fashioned TV he had picked up once and liked to watch. Junkrat preferred to tinker away into the night until he passed out from exhaustion. It certainly was a lot better than a lot of the abodes they had slept in at various points. He passed his own dresser (for clothes!), where his grenade launcher had been carefully placed on top, digging through his drawers for essentials. He smiled briefly at the little mouse that was also on display next to it. The matching pig was over by Roadie’s TV, and he knew he loved it. They both did.

Junkrat got himself a proper shower, scrubbing himself clean and actually washing his hair to best of his ability! He knew he didn’t have the best hair, as it was uneven in places and barren in others – radiation loved to do that to a fella – but he washed it carefully anyway. Roadhog came in while he was finishing up, and he shivered, grabbing a towel to try himself off with. How he despised baths and showers, because it was always so freezing afterwards! There was nothing like a Junker bath – a quick shower with a hose for no more than five minutes in an effort to conserve water. It was something he was still getting used to; resources at every turn without having to fight tooth and nail for it. His first week, matter of fact, had consisted of him filling up every available canteen and cup he could find with water and soda, innate instinct telling him to hoard or lose it. But it was fine now, for the most part. No one was itching to take him out (yet), and he could go to cafeteria and drink whatever he wanted to.

He’d brought the essentials with him in the bathroom; suit still in the plastic bag that he had picked up the other day from the shop. He got himself dressed, struggling to put it on as carefully as possible so he wouldn’t accidentally tear it. He struggled first with the black trousers, glad to know that his invasive measuring session hadn’t been in vain when he was able to slide the pant leg most of the way down. He pulled it down as much as it would fall over his metal leg, grimacing when he realized that despite his best efforts, it would still look slightly uneven.

“Great…” he grumbled to himself. But not one to be discouraged or give up now, he got to work with putting the rest of the bloody thing on, staring at himself miserably in the mirror. White shirt underneath it looked okay, though it took a little more time than he would have liked to button it up, fingers twitchy. Junkrat had just as much trouble with his bowtie, as no matter how many times he redid it, it seemed crooked and sloppy. With an irradiated huff of annoyance, he let it hang, deciding to come back to it later. He swallowed, shrugging the red tuxedo jacket over himself. And… it looked nice, he’d admit. Rather dashing. He gave himself an uncertain smile into the mirror, before he hobbled out of the bathroom, seeing Roadhog across the room, sitting in one of his chairs.

“Oi,” he snapped, “How’s it look?”

Roadhog spared him a glance, “…Looks alright to me.”

“The tie’s not even finished yet!” He exclaimed, “I don’t know how to do it. Roadie, do something!”

“…I don’t know how to either.” Junkrat slapped a hand to his forehead, feeling a bit hopeless all of a sudden. What would Angie think, seeing him so disheveled like this?! It looked nice, especially the unique red color, but if the tie wasn’t done right, what was the point?!

“All’s lost!” He exclaimed dramatically, letting himself drop with a heavy thud in one of his own chairs. Parts of his prosthetics were still undoubtedly soaked though, as he usually preferred to clean himself without them on. But he’d been in such a rush and hurry he’d kept them on. He grimaced, at least grateful that they weren’t leaking through his clothes. He’d have to disengage them later and let them dry out.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Roadhog grumbled. “She doesn’t care about that.” He paused for a moment for some reason, as if he misspoke. But Junkrat was too busy moping about. He sighed, “Just look up how to do it or something.”

Junkrat was silent for a long moment, before he lit up suddenly, quickly retrieving his barely-used Overwatch-issued phone. “I’ve got an even better idea! I’ll look it up meself!”

“…Genius.” And he turned the TV’s volume up.

He then proceeded to find the most in-depth tutorial he could on the internet for guys like him in this exact situation. He followed the video to the best of his own ability, stopping and rewinding it several times in order to catch up with the man in the video, and soon enough… Junkrat had a tied bow tie, barely so and crooked, but he wasn’t about to change it now and risk worsening it.

It was nearly six once he finished all this, taking a full glance in the mirror with his fancy bowler hat on his head, glove and shoe on, and leaning on his opulent cane. He couldn’t stop a smirk from coming to his face, as he looked like what he used to desire; wealth, class, power. But hey, all of those seemed to matter less and less the more he matured and aged! Though, maybe it was just wishful thinking.

He stepped back out again, sparing a glance to his grenade launcher. “Hmm…” he pondered, wondering it was feasible and socially appropriate to stroll in carrying it on his back at the very least.  “What do ya think? Launcher or no launcher?” It would feel really odd, to be stripped of all weapons completely like this. He had to be sitting duck out there without them!

“…Rat,” came his scolding tone, “You don’t need it.”

“But what if some big bad guy tries to tie Angie to train tracks and I got nothin’ to defend her with?!”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Roadhog replied, not taking his gaze off his show that had just come on.

He crossed his arms, “It could,” he said righteously, “And then I’d be the only one to blame." Even despite his friend’s advice, he dug through the fourth shelf of his dresser (which was the only one not designated for clothes), and pulled out a handful of small grenades, decorated with his trademark smiley face and stuffed them in his pockets. He’d feel more secure with them, but promised himself he’d not use them unless it was an emergency. He looked around the room once more, pocketing his phone as well just in case. There was nothing else to do, and he knew that waiting up here for another thirty minutes would only make him more anxious, and therefore more inclined to bow something up.

“Think that’s it then,” he said after a few moments. He remembered something then, turning to Roadhog, “Oh, wait! What the hell did Winston say to ya?!” He asked him, curiosity burning in his expression.

The big man shrugged, “Said next time I need money just to ask.”

“Boooooring!” He said, thoroughly disappointed in the gorilla’s reaction. “That’s all? Jeesh! I heard that he can get really mad! And I wanna see it!”

“Well, he asked why I needed it and I said it was an emergency,” he added. “Told him that you needed it to impress Mercy.”

There was a second where his eyes probably got really large as he stared at Roadhog in horror and disbelief, “YOU WHAT?!” He exclaimed loudly, and Roadhog sighed, likely pausing his show. “You no-good traitor, you!” He yelled, “How could ya tell him that?! He’ll tell her before I can!” It would ruin everything, and possibly make Angela uncomfortable that he’d spent so much for the sole purpose of looking nice for her.

"Relax,” his voice came out as a warning, “He needed a reason and he’s treated us well, Jamison.” It was something Junkrat hadn’t seen in Roadhog in a while to anyone else besides him; loyalty. “He seemed happy for you, at least. Told me not to worry about it.” Junkrat paused, anger abating slightly at his words. What?

“He… He wasn’t weirded out? Angry? Not even confused?”

“Nope,” Roadhog answered simply, “He said he saw it coming for a while.”

“…Oh,” Of bloody course it would be the smart gorilla to see through his feelings before anyone else. He felt awkward all of a sudden, feeling like the big guy was due an apology, but too proud to admit it. He huffed, tightening his grip on his fancy cane as he walked out. “See ya later.”

“Yup.” And the TV starting playing again as he walked out, an odd feeling of guilt rising in him. He never felt sorry for how he spoke to Roadie! Never! But at the moment, even while he was riding down in the elevator, he did feel a bit bad for it. Later, he reluctantly told himself. He still had a good thirty minutes or so, a little less. But if anything, Junkrat would have hated to be late to this, and so he found himself sitting in a chair on the ground floor of the base, twirling his thumbs as it was all he could do at the moment without furthering his nervousness.

A voice greeted him, “Ah, hello Junkrat.” His head quickly looked up to see it was Ana, dressed in a mature-looking black evening dress. Simple, but formal. She didn’t smile at him, but merely nodded her head in his direction.  

“Good evening, Ms. Amari,” he said as politely as he could, offering her a smile. She didn’t like him, he knew, but he wasn’t about to be rude to a lady like her.

Then, much to his surprise, she did smile at him, a small one, but it was still there! “You can call me Ana, everyone else does.” She told him, and he swallowed.

“Alright then, Ana!”  

“Heading over?” She asked, and he stood out of nervous habit.

“Not yet,” he replied, and she was staring at him again with that piercing gaze again, like she was looking right bloody through him. “I uh… ‘m waiting for somebody.”

“Angela?”

He clenched his hands into fists so his fingers wouldn’t twitch. “Yeah! We’re walking over together.”

“Hmm.” Was all Ana said, and she paused for a moment. “She speaks highly of you often, you know.” And damn, if that didn’t do something to his ego, nothing did.

Heat rose in his face. “Oh… uh. Really?” He asked, and was dying to ask what she said about him. No, he would demand it because he couldn’t handle thinking about what Angie was saying in close confidence to her friends about _him_. He couldn’t handle knowing that it was good. She thought highly of him!

“Yes,” she said. “And I will be honest with you, Jamison Fawkes.” Junkrat was suddenly wondering if this was going to be some kind of weird shotgun talk. “I did not see it at first.” Ouch, well that kinda stung! “When you’re in this business as long as me, you tend to form judgment rather quickly, especially when it comes to criminals.” And for once, he was truly stunned into complete silence, simply staring at her. “But,” she continued, “It was an error on my part. You and Roadhog have been nothing but helpful to Overwatch since you joined.”

“I uh… I try, after all!” Was this real? Now he just had to make sure that Ana never found out how he paid for his little shopping trip.

Ana actually laughed at that, “I can see that.” The two of them stood there for a long moment, and her eye’s gaze fell on something behind him, and a softer smile developed on her face. “Your bow tie is crooked though. And your suit a bit wrinkled. Did you iron it?”

“Iron? This was supposed to be ironed?” He asked in absolute confusion, having no idea of what she meant. Ana seemed to realize this quickly and merely gave a shake of her head.

“Here, let me help,” and he allowed it, as she quickly undid his sloppy tie work and re-tied it in a way that he couldn’t even follow, but knew that it looked a million times better then when he had done it himself. She adjusted his jacket in a way that even felt better to him. She nodded once, “Much better,” she noted, knowing smile on her face. “I will be heading over a bit early. I hope to see you there.”

“Cheers!” He said in a surprising burst of gratitude and happiness.

She looked behind him once more. “Go get her,” came the whisper in confidence from the older woman, and Junkrat blinked, watching as Ana walked away, mysterious and perplexing as always. It was confusion until he turned to look in the direction that she had been looking in. And he immediately felt his heart seize up painfully in chest, breath caught in his throat. There she was, Angie, looking so devastatingly beautiful, he couldn’t even think.

She was more than dolled up. She was everything. Blonde hair arranged in some sort of fancy updo; wavy and even some parts of it were _curled_ in the front, and it framed her face so nicely, the rest twirled in a bun. The fabric of her long dress was a startling light blue, bright and beautiful, and it trailed all the way to the floor in an elegant way. It was long and part of it met the floor as she walked towards him. Sleeveless, and she wore a silver shawl around her shoulders, and by god, she could be a princess from one of those old stories.

“You’re bloody gorgeous.” Was the first thing that came to his mind, as he shamelessly stared at her, “Belong on the cover of a fashion mag or something. Jesus, Angie.” He knew he was blushing, and could feel the damn heat in his face. His heart was at this point going to jump out and leap free.

“Very sweet of you to say,” Angela replied with a bright smile, “And you don’t lie, Jamison. You clean up certainly very well. Very handsome indeed.” There was a flush on her cheeks, from either makeup or their blatant compliments towards each other, he wasn’t exactly sure. He only knew that he had to be the luckiest bloke in the entire universe. He found himself standing straighter, mentally reminding himself to thank Ana, that wonderful woman, for her aid in perfecting his outfit. Angela could seemingly wear anything and make it suit _her_. It was like she woke up one day and was suddenly the epitome of high society.

“I mean it,” he said, and he was nearly breathless. She barely even had any accessories like he did; silver necklace and a small wristlet she carried in her arms. But that was it. She didn’t even need any of the damn things! “Ya sure you’re not getting married to a king or something?” He joked in an attempt to save himself.

She laughed and looked at him in a pointed way. “No, not yet anyway.” And he knew it was also on a joke on her part, but he couldn’t help the way he reacted; full out blush developing on his stupid, traitorous face. _Oh dear god_. He coughed, and tried to think of any response to that. But luckily, he didn’t have to, as she spoke again. “Shall we?”

And being a perfect gentleman, he laughed and held out his free arm. “Absolutely, my lady!”

She laughed, a true gleeful one and gratefully took his offered arm.


End file.
